


Six AM Christmas Morning

by x_thisismybeautifulshow_x



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Christmas, Death, F/M, Gen, Halloween Challenge, Minor Violence, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-08 22:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20842796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/x_thisismybeautifulshow_x/pseuds/x_thisismybeautifulshow_x
Summary: written for the 2019 Rockfic Halloween Challenge.Based on lyrics from "If I was your Vampire".Vampire Marilyn Manson reflects on his latest meal.





	Six AM Christmas Morning

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I take full responsibility for this cringe. God help me. I wrote this in an hour at 2am. You're welcome.  
I own nothing. Not Manson, not the Eat Me Drink Me album, not the song "If I Was Your Vampire." I own this fic and that's it.  
Also this is kind of my first foray into crack fic and alternate universes.

I lie here, on this cold and festive morning, snow on the ground. The moon shines as pale as my skin, and is reflected through the window. This is the last hour before dawn, before I am forced to go to ground. I lie here, in the cold embrace of my human lover. Well, she was human. Now, she’s joined the ranks of the dead. I like to cuddle with my food after I eat. 

I suppose I should dispose of my plaything, but there’s still a few minutes left. When I picked her up, unassuming, she was on her way out of a Christmas party. She looked quite delectable in her red dress, all wrapped up like a present just for me. It didn’t take long to lure her to my home, and it took even less time to shove that skirt up and partake in an appetizer before my main course. She experienced so much pleasure before succumbing, as they all do, to death's embrace. Poor fragile humans. 

I have tried to be different than I am, but this is my nature. And I rather enjoy playing with my food. At least I clean my plate when I’m done.

Just after six, I rise and prepare the girl for burial. Shame, I never got her name. No matter, if I had, this might be more difficult. You’d think after 700 years one would get it right. I used to be more careless, so there’s a sign of maturity I guess.

Merry Christmas to me. I am full of my blood meal and go outside to the lightened dark morning, where soon church bells will be ringing to greet the holiday. I don’t have much time. 6:19. Okay. I’m ready. Fill the tomb. Dispose. 

I break the frozen ground with the shovel. Dig the hole just deep enough. I wrap her in the blood stained sheets in which she perished. It kinda looks like a heart, and it makes me giggle a little bit. But I have no time to dally. I have forty minutes left and must continue my process. I often wonder what humans actually might think when they see me. Surely they recognize the danger. Maybe that’s part of the appeal. The danger is what lures them to my side. Of course, I can glamour. But I’m a lot more ethical than many of my brethren. My brothers are probably a little less careful. But no matter. I find that humans seek us out. I can blame Anne Rice for the temptation, but I imagine even without Lestat, humans would find us irresistible. 

Circle of life. Lion and lamb. Dammit, Stephanie Meyer!

Dig, dig. The hole opens in the earth. The frozen ground is becoming more forgiving from the shovel's penetration. She isn’t my first in this earthen cemetary, and she won’t be my last. 

This is beyond the pale. As always. But in the blackness of my existence, I can’t turn back. I love all my playthings, but I kill them. The way of predator and prey.

I bury her emaciated form, bloodless and pale eyes. The earthen tomb swallows that beautiful red dress, the one that lured me to her. Her blank eyes no longer see, but they are open in frozen horror. Her heart, that deliciously beautiful organ which pumped blood through her delectable veins, was the best part. As usual.

I may never find redemption. Some day I may wish to greet the dawn. Today is not that day. If there is a God, surely he has given up on me and those like me.

The last of the dirt fills the hole. Another lifeless soul, gone on. And I return to my lair, just in time for the sun to break over the Christmas morn.

Until the moon rises, I sleep.


End file.
